dark; burly figure up in the cart; was bending over his
parcels。
〃Its cupboard love as brings you out so sharp;〃 he said; his
voice resounding in the cold darkness。 Nevertheless he was
excited。 And she; taking one of the cart lamps; poked and peered
among the jumble of things he had brought; pushing aside the oil
or implements he had got for himself。
She dragged out a pair of small; strong bellows; registered
them in her mind; and then pulled uncertainly at something else。
It had a long handle; and a piece of brown paper round the
middle of it; like a waistcoat。
〃Whats this?〃 she said; poking。
He stopped to look at her。 She went to the lamp…light by the
horse; and stood there bent over the new thing; while her hair
was like bronze; her apron white and cheerful。 Her fingers
plucked busily at the paper。 She dragged forth a little wringer;
with clean indiarubber rollers。 She examined it critically; not
knowing quite how it worked。
She looked up at him。 He stood a shadowy presence beyond the
light。
〃How does it go?〃 she asked。
〃Why; its for pulpin turnips;〃 he replied。
She looked at him。 His voice disturbed her。
〃Dont be silly。 Its a little mangle;〃 she said。 〃How do you
stand it; though?〃
〃You screw it on th side o your wash…tub。〃 He came and held
it out to her。
〃Oh; yes!〃 she cried; with one of her little skipping
movements; which still came when she was suddenly glad。
And without another thought she ran off into the house;
leaving him to untackle the horse。 And when
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